"An orphanage? Really?"
Iryna stepped carefully out of the carriage, holding the heavy folds of her traveling cloak above the dusty cobblestones. She looked up at the weathered brick facade of the three-story building nestled in the quiet, tree-lined corner of the lower district. The wooden sign swinging above the gate bore a simple carved crest of a oak leaf, faded by years of rain and sun.
Gillian, who had already gotten down before her, now stood beside her, adjusting the lapels of his dark cloak as he looked up at the building with a calm, softened gaze.
"Yes," Gillian replied easily. "An orphanage."
Iryna turned her head, crossing her arms over her chest as a faint, amused smirk touched her lips. "Wow, brother. You certainly bring your little habits everywhere you go, don't you? Not only in our own empire, but in other empires as well?"
